


Power Play

by HYPERFocused



Category: Chicago Hope, due South
Genre: Competition-Set Fic, Hockey, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Semi-Public Sex, Stealth Crossover, due South Seekrit Santa Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2198949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser introduces Ray to Mark Smithbauer. Ray isn't sure what kind of game Mark's playing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ultra_chrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra_chrome/gifts).



> DueSouth Seekrit Santa Story. Written 12/2008. Not so much a crossover, a chance to get PG's Aspen Extreme co-star, Peter Berg, logically on-scene, as dS and Chicago Hope were both contemporary CBS, Chicago set shows.

The day Fraser introduces Ray to Mark Smithbauer, Ray hates him on sight. He's stopped at the precinct because he's in town to play celebrity ringer for the Police vs Physicians charity hockey game, and he and Fraser have some strategizing to do. Ray can tell it's a ploy to get back in Fraser's good graces, and an allowable way to be the pro he once was.

Ray really doesn't like the way Fraser's clearly still drawn to him, even though the guy treated Fraser like dirt (Ray's heard). He's like Dieffenbaker eyeing a donut, his head swiveling away from Ray and the story he was telling about this one time the Goat had chased some yuppie's Porsche nearly into the lake, and how hard it probably was to get fish smell out of a $60,000 car.

Ray's seen it before, Fraser's attention heighten, his eyes tracking the "person of interest". Except usually that person is a perp, or Ray, when he's very lucky. With Smithbauer, Ray suspects even Fraser isn't sure which category the guy fits. It's obvious that Fraser interests Smithbauer just as much. Ray doesn't know for _sure_ if Fraser's fucked him, but he'd put good odds on it. Ray never got all the details, just that they had been friends, but he said in that way that Ray figured meant something more. He knows that Smithbauer crapped on Fraser. Not quite as thoroughly as Victoria did, but enough to chip off a little more of his trust. Fraser always gives it, gives too much if anyone asks Ray, which no one ever does.

He hates Mark, his good looks, slick, sleazy charm, like he still thinks he's somebody. Yeah, maybe he was the first guy Fraser's been with, and maybe he plans to be the next. Ray thinks Fraser would again if the circumstances were right. Ray's going to do his damndest to make sure the circumstances are exactly wrong.

"I understand why you're jealous, but it's quite unwarranted," Fraser tells him when they're back in Ray's apartment that night. Fraser's trying to scrounge them up some dinner, but Ray doesn't care about food, so much as he wants to sate his other appetites. He's already unbuttoning Fraser's serge, leaning in to suck a kiss into his neck. Fine by him if it shows a little. Lets people know Fraser's taken, even if he and Fraser don't spill the details.

"I'm not jealous. I just don't like the guy or the way he looks at you." Another couple of layers off, and Ray can't help running his hands all over Fraser's smooth, warm chest. Pale and gorgeous and no one should touch it but him.

"Well, I wasn't looking back. Of course I looked at him when he was talking -- that's only polite -- but I don't look at him the way I look at you. You needn't worry." Now it's Fraser's hands on Ray's buttons -- he always pushes Ray's buttons, or turns his knob, or whatever the expression is.

"I know you're right, but I'm glad for the proof," Ray tells him. More clothes drop off as he walks them into the bedroom. He's heard that some coaches frown on their players screwing before a game, and he's glad that won't be an issue here.

Fraser's eager and excited, still lit up inside from the anticipation of tomorrow's game. He tells Ray all about his plans for the game, about hockey in the past, even while Ray's reaching for the lube and preparing him. That's another funny thing about Fraser, the way he can always tell a story Once two of Fraser's fingers are in _Ray's_ ass, he might as well be speaking Chinese for all Ray cares or is able to notice.

It's good between them. It's always good. Maybe Ray fucks a little harder, not enough to hurt, but wanting Fraser to feel it when he's on the ice tomorrow. Like maybe it'll show somehow.

Hockey isn't really Ray's game the way it was Fraser's -- he prefers boxing gloves for his fights. But watching Fraser play is Ray's game. He'd thought Fraser would be a perfect gentlemen, playing strictly by the rules, nipping any brawling in the bud with a disapproving look, or a '"tsk-tsk". Instead, when the game becomes heated, and the checking turns into a pile-on, Fraser gives as good as he gets. Not in a thuggish way, he's just defending himself and his team, rather than worsening the melee, but it was obvious he knew what he was doing.

It's hottest thing Ray has seen in weeks, outside the bedroom, and so is the energized, ecstatic Fraser,who Ray corrals on his way to the locker room after the game. They kiss in a darkened alcove of the athletic center, and Ray sinks to his knees on the cold concrete. He wants to take it slow, taste all of Fraser's sweat dampened skin, but there isn't time. All he can do is swallow Fraser down, capture the power and adrenalin of the game, the sweetness of victory on his tongue. "Thanks for coming, Ray," Fraser says, pulling Ray up to kiss him again.

"You, too."

Shower fresh, Fraser brings Ray along to their celebration at Giordano's, the crowd boisterous, and the pizza just the right kind of greasy. Ray still doesn't much like Smithbauer, but the guy did play a good game, and he'll be leaving tomorrow. Fraser is still flushed (from the game, and those ten minutes in the alcove), and his hand is warm on Ray's thigh, so Ray is prepared to let things slide.

At home hours later, Fraser's finally beginning to ache. Ray digs out the Ben Gay (the joke is not lost on him) and get to work cataloging Fraser's wounds.

"Which one did that to your face, Frase?" He pints to a small gash near his eye, that someone has sewn up.

"A Doctor 'B. Kronk'."

"Billy Kronk?"

"If that's what the 'B' stands for, then I would suppose so. Do you know him?"

"Yeah I know Billy Kronk. He sat behind me through most of grammar school and junior high and high school biology. Kind of kid who kicked your seat and threw paper wads at you, but still managed to throw the curve with his A+s. Didn't know he was a doctor, but it shouldn't surprise me."

"You don't sound like a fan."

"He was a hothead. And I don't like that he cut you."

"He stitched me up again, too."

"Well, he's still an asshole."

"Actually, he was quite congenial, off the ice."

"I bet he was." Just like Smithbauer. Ray did not want to hear about it. He could imagine just how friendly Billy would have been. He'd been pretty damn friendly in high school, and not too discriminating, either. Not that going for Fraser was a sign of _bad_ taste. He was good looking enough, and just plain good, to make many a straight guy question himself.

Ray's glad that he doesn't question himself anymore. Falling for Fraser opened his eyes. Opened him to new possibilities. Ray may not be much on skates, but with Fraser, he's not afraid to get out onto center ice.


End file.
